


Rearrange Again

by in48frames



Category: Bomb Girls
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in48frames/pseuds/in48frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of the movie, Gladys goes overseas and Betty and Kate move into their new house. Nothing will ever be quite the same again. McWitham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rearrange Again

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this right after the movie aired in Canada and so I apologize for not sharing it sooner. Hope you enjoy.

As the buzzer ends the last workday of the week, Gladys sits outside the factory, idling her car. Betty's never the first girl out—naturally—so Gladys folds her arms over the wheel and rests her chin on top. As ladies exit the gate they peer in through the windows and either look away fast or smile and wave. Mostly the first one, but Gladys keeps a smile on, her lipstick perfect and hat tilted just right.

Sometimes it's still about image.

When Betty finally turns up, she slides right on in and Gladys reaches out to squeeze her hand.

"Am I ever on display," Gladys says, and gestures to the parade going by, still craning their necks to see what they can see.

"Girls love to gossip," Betty replies, and they try not to laugh—really they do—but they can't help it.

"Oh, we're awful," Gladys says, half believing it, as she shifts the car into drive and pulls away.

Her new mission is Top Secret, of course, which means she doesn't even know when she's shipping out. She'll be told day of, maybe, and so she's spending as much time as she can with her friends before… before she's gone.

So, on this night before Betty's day off, while Kate is singing, they occupy a booth at Fran's, sharing a plate of fries and a vanilla milkshake, smoking and playing cards.

They draw and play, draw and discard, and Gladys's mind drifts. She thinks, in only a vague nebulous way, about the mission before her and the mission behind. The doubt pinches at her stomach and she brushes it away again, as she's been doing ever since she first had to lie to her friends. It's nothing, nothing she can afford to pay attention to.

She blinks hard and tunes back in to hear Betty saying, "…thinking they have to cross the oceans to be part of the war effort, what have we been doing for years if not supporting the war effort," muttering as she stabs at the cold fries with a fork.

"Betts," Gladys says. "Are you mad at me for leaving?"

Betty glances up and then focuses back on the fries, stacking as many on her fork as she can.

"Betts…"

"You don't know!" Betty blurts out. "It could happen to you!"

For a second she just looks at her. It hurts to imagine Betty's fear. "But Betts, we caught the saboteur. Our ship will have an anti-sub escort. I'll be as safe on the sea as I am in the bomb factory."

Scoffing, Betty shakes her head.

"Which isn't," Gladys says, getting up from her side and walking around the table, "all that safe," sitting down next to Betty, "you must admit." She wraps her arms around Betty, pinning the girl's arms down, and Betty sighs. "Want to have a sleepover?"

"Yes, of course," Betty says morosely.

Gladys lets her go and digs around in her purse for some cash. Dropping an estimate on the table, she gathers her coat and plants her hat on her head. "Let's skedaddle."

At the hotel room, Gladys offers Betty the bathroom and changes in front of her closet. They climb into bed and meet in the middle, lying comfortably face-to-face.

After a moment, Betty says, "We're going furniture shopping tomorrow."

"Ooh," Gladys replies, her eyebrows rising. "I've never been furniture shopping."

"Yeah, me neither," Betty says, smirking a little.

"Do you know what you'll need?"

"We looked over the floor plans and made lists of what we'll need for each room. Since we're starting from scratch… it definitely won't be all at once. We need, at the very least, bed frames and dressers and a kitchen table… and chairs. Not to mention dishes, pots and pans…" Heaving a sigh, she says, "It really adds up."

"Hmm. Where are you going to look?"

"Anywhere secondhand, except for mattresses, of course. I've got enough left from Marco's winnings, but I don't want to spend it all in one place."

Gladys smiles. "You're so wise, Betty McRae. Make sure your woods match."

Doing a double-take, Betty says, "What?!"

Her smile turns to a grin. "The wood your furniture is made of. Everything needs to be the same. What kind are you looking for?"

"Uh… the brown kind?"

Heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes dramatically, Gladys says, "It sounds like you need a little guidance. I'm seeing Lorna tomorrow, but do you want me to meet up with you later?"

"Might as well," Betty concedes, pressing her face to the pillow. "And Lorna? How's that?"

"Ah, she's taking in sewing. I think she's seeing visions of her life after the war ends and she doesn't like it one bit. I'm going to try to get her back in at the factory—there has to be some string I can pull…"

"Using your powers for good?" A soft smile takes her face, affection in her eyes. "I'm proud of you, Princess."

She smiles back, but says seriously, "Anything I can do, really, to make up for…" She ducks her head, hiding her face.

"Yeah," Betty says, reaching out and through Gladys's hair to hold the back of her neck. "I know." She presses her lips to Gladys's forehead and they stay like that for a moment, before Betty sighs and rolls over. Gladys closes the gap between them, draping her arm over Betty's waist and leaning her forehead on Betty's shoulder.

There are very, very few—a miniscule number of people who Betty can touch without being paralyzed by worry and fear. Gladys is at the top of that list. She feels safe; she relaxes; and they drift easily into sleep.

Gladys wakes early and orders breakfast; it arrives with an envelope and Betty watches as she opens it, watches as the colour drains from her face.

"What is it?" she asks, almost sure she knows the answer.

"Just a bill," Gladys murmurs, bringing the tray to Betty in bed. "How about a little princess treatment, Betts?"

"Can't say no to that," Betty says softly. She knows, but she'll let Gladys do this her way.

Climbing back onto the bed, Gladys is careful not to jostle the tray, but sits as close to Betty as humanly possible without actually sitting in her lap. They share eggs and coffee in near silence, the comfort of closeness enough for the moment.

On her way out the door, Betty hugs Gladys long and hard, not saying a word. When she pulls away, Gladys smiles tightly.

"I'll see you later today," she says.

"Yeah," Betty says, holding eye contact for a long moment, holding onto Gladys's hand even longer. "Okay."

Of course, she doesn't. When Betty and Kate begin to wander around the store where they'd arranged to meet, a salesperson approaches almost immediately. Betty's back goes up but the girl only asks, "Are you Betty McRae?" and hands her an envelope.

Holding on to it, Betty sits down heavily on a nearby sofa. She bows her head and takes a deep breath that comes out in a long sigh. Then she opens the envelope, with Kate watching anxiously.

_Dear Betty, dear Kate,_

_I love you._

_Keep the faith._

_G._

_P.S. Try oak._

Betty puts her face in her hands, refusing to cry, taking deep shuddering breaths to maintain her composure. Kate sits down beside her and takes the note gingerly from her hand, then puts her arm around Betty's shoulders.

"I'm sure she'll be all right," Kate says.

"Yeah," Betty says. "That's what everyone keeps telling me."

They stay on that sofa until Betty takes one last, fortifying breath and stands, saying, "Let's get to it, then."

As if Betty knows what oak looks like, or how it differs from other woods. She asks for oak bedframes, oak dressers, and the salesperson says, "Oh yes, we have a beautiful set in oak;" she takes their word for it. As if Betty really cares if her woods match—she doesn't.

They find two bedframes, two dressers (all supposedly oak), a Formica kitchen table, and four kitchen chairs. Betty nearly passes out when they hear the total, plus delivery, but she has the cash and she sets it down.

It's her dream, and her dream doesn't exactly involve her sleeping on the floor in a pile of blankets—although who knows, that could be nice. But no, she's a grownup and she needs a grownup bed. And a kitchen table. And, right, dishes and pots and pans and soap and… cleaning cloths? Outside the store, with the delivery arranged for later that same day, Betty turns to Kate, overwhelmed.

"Mattresses," she says. "Dishes. A lot of dishes. Utensils. Pots. Pans. Spatulas."

Kate takes her by the shoulders. "Okay, Betty. This is a process. Take it one step at a time."

"We need a place to _sleep_ ," Betty exclaims.

"Yes, and we still have our rooms. Remember? We won't give them up until we're ready to move in. Now, do you want to have the mattresses delivered at the same time as the furniture, or on another day?"

Betty stares with wide eyes.

"It might be better on another day, Betty, so they aren't getting in each other's way."

"Okay." Betty takes a deep breath. "Okay, okay. But we don't want to be paying for the rooms much longer. That's our hard earned cash, still."

"Give it one more week, okay? On your next day off we'll be more… prepared. We'll do this right, I promise."

"And when did you get so smart?" Betty says, flashing a sideways smile at Kate.

"When you started losing it," Kate says back, poking Betty in the side with her elbow.

They decide to drop by Lorna's, to make up for Gladys's absence as much as to receive some motherly guidance as much as to simply be there for Lorna.

"Oh, girls," she says as soon as she opens the door, and her eyes fill with tears.

Betty doesn't hesitate before wrapping her in a close hug, and Kate does the same.

"Did you hear from Gladys?" Betty asks.

"Yes." Lorna sighs. "She called briefly—just to say she wouldn't be able to see me today, that she might be a little too busy. I assume—?"

"Yeah," Betty says, and sniffs hard. "She's gone."

Lorna shakes her head, then holds open the door and waves them in. "But come in, come in, I won't leave you on the doorstep. Will you have tea? A snack perhaps? Sandwiches?"

"Tea would be lovely, Mrs. Corbett," Kate says politely. "May we sit in the kitchen?"

"Oh!" Lorna says. "If you'd like, certainly."

As they take their seats, Betty explains, "We've been out shopping for my new house, you know. It's quite a job, I'm not sure I was entirely prepared."

"I see," Lorna says as she bustles around fixing the tea. "So you wanted to get a good look, eh?"

Letting out a distressed huff, Betty deflates a little. "It's all so overwhelming. There are so many small things and details… and big things."

"Well, you know, things were different when I moved in here." Lorna plants one hand on the counter as the water boils, and takes a good look around. "I had a hope chest my whole life. Then we got married, of course, and a lot of the small things are taken care of there. And children fill a home no matter what you do." She walks over and takes Betty's chin in her hand, looking her in the eye. "What you're doing is very brave, Miss McRae. Don't feel defeated just yet. You can live without a lot of the small things, and you'll acquire them in good time." She puts that hand on her hip and nods decisively, holding her gaze. "You'll be just fine, I'm sure of it."

Betty smiles down at the table. "I wish I had your faith."

"Well, at least you aren't doing it alone," and Lorna casts a smile to Kate as well. "What a blessing, to move into your first house with such a good friend."

Chuckling, Betty says, "By the time we leave here, you might have us convinced that all is right in the world and we need for nothing."

"Ah," Lorna says, pouring the tea. "It's important to maintain a positive outlook. Especially during times of change." As she sits down at the table with them, some of the pomp drains out of her.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Corbett?" Betty asks softly.

Lorna sighs. "Lorna, please. Both of you, it's Lorna now. And I'm coping. I'm doing all right, really. This just isn't where I expected to be; not quite yet."

"You know if I could do anything—" Betty starts, and Lorna cuts her off.

"I know, dear, and thank you. I'm so proud to see you girls making lives for yourselves. I haven't lost everything—far from it. And something else will come along…" She gazes down into her tea.

On their way out the door, Lorna presses them with a roast and sides from her refrigerator. "I've been cooking too much, please."

After overseeing the delivery at Betty's house, they take the streetcar to Betty's boarding house and feed the entire floor, girls standing in groups and gatherings around the common room with plates in their hands and mouths full as they talk. A record player in the corner never has a moment's rest. Even though they are strangers, it is a party.

When Betty sends Kate home and goes to her bed, she gasps at the force of grief that hits her in the chest. Standing in the middle of the room she wraps her arms around her waist, trying to hold herself together even as she falls apart.

The only way she can bring herself to lie down and approach sleep is to put herself back in last night, to remember Gladys's arms around her and pretend it's now; to believe that this is a wait, not a period of mourning.

The first week passes in increments too small to count. Betty works the green line, carting small loads to the house in the evenings, using a borrowed suitcase. She goes to see Kate sing and, more often than not, stares into her drink with her mind altogether elsewhere.

On their day off, Betty and Kate finish their shopping; order mattresses and have them delivered, buy dishes and soap and other miscellany.

And—incredibly—they move in and give up their boarding house rooms. It feels like a whirlwind only then, and Betty realizes that her life has changed forever.

A week and two days after Gladys's departure, a telegram arrives to the house.

_ALL IS WELL LOVE G_

The wall holds Betty up, relief having taken all the tension from her muscles. It's the first telegram she's ever received, and likely the shortest she ever will, but she presses it to her heart like it's a part of Gladys herself.

And so it goes. Days pass as days pass; Kate continues to sing in the evenings, and when Betty doesn't go straight to see her after shift, she doesn't see her at all. Betty is in bed when Kate returns home, and Kate is in bed when Betty rises. They settle into the house, in their own ways, but they don't do it together.

Betty, alone in her room at night, is fine with that. Her relationship with Kate has been… difficult… for some time. Maybe for always. Despite the fact they now share a living space, this almost seems to be the distance they—she—needed, as if the time in prison and boxing weren't enough.

 _If only Gladys were here_ , she thinks on a regular basis. If only Gladys were here, she could spend the evenings with me. If only Gladys were here, perhaps we could learn to cook together. If only Gladys were here, I would have someone to speak to directly and without words between lines. If only Gladys were here, I would have someone to _speak to_ …

Of course, Betty and Kate spend Betty's day off together… sometimes. Word of mouth is spreading about Kate, and it turns out that rich people like to have a pretty girl in a pretty dress singing at their lunches and garden parties. Lunches and garden parties happen during the day.

Betty is not invited.

Kate tries to involve her, she really does. Betty doesn't begrudge her her burgeoning career _at all_ … but there is such a difference between choosing to be alone and having it forced upon you. In prison, after, Betty had the choice, held the power. Now she's just alone and she can't do anything about it. Except make new friends; not terribly likely.

Kate's life seems to be heading in the opposite direction. The more time she spends at the Jewel Box, the more dinners she shares with the band and staff, the more drinks they giggle over in the wee morning hours.

So Betty takes up an empty spot left behind by someone else: She joins Lorna in the kitchen. She learns to knit in Lorna's living room while radio dramas play on the CBC. Lying in bed at night, she thinks that she and Lorna are just the same—waiting for someone overseas, praying they will come home again.

But Betty is luckier than many.

Because after four months, a knock comes at the door.

She's in the kitchen, trying a recipe Lorna gave her for roast beef, and wipes her hands on a tea towel before walking to the door. With one finger, she tugs the sheer away from the small window and drops it immediately back before wrenching the door open. It's Gladys, and to the side the cabbie with her luggage. Neither says a word, mindful of the company, but stand with eyes locked as he shifts the pile inside the door and says, "Have a nice evening, ladies," tipping his hat.

Then he's gone and Betty is reaching out, tugging gently at Gladys's wrist, pulling her inside and closing the door behind them. As she turns, Gladys launches herself into Betty's arms and Betty holds tight.

"Welcome home, Princess," she says, her throat tightening around the words.

As they separate, Gladys looks down, so Betty takes the lead, walking in to the kitchen and saying, "Are you hungry?," pulling out a chair for Gladys.

She sits, and says softly, "Not very."

"Well, good," Betty says as she picks up a tea towel and uses it to carry the roast to the oven and slide it in. "Because the food isn't ready yet." Once she's checked the temperature and set the timer, she turns back to Gladys. "How about a two-penny tour?"

Nodding, Gladys stands, and Betty holds her hands up to either side. "Here's the kitchen." Gladys ducks her head and smiles and Betty grins back.

Walking into the next room, they find a large carpeted space with absolutely no furniture. There are cushions and afghans cast about and Betty holds her hands up again. "This… is the living room. It's a work in progress." She smiles to the side at Gladys and Gladys laughs a little.

Turning out of the living room, they follow the small hall back toward the front door. Almost at the end, Betty gestures to the right. "Kate's room." To the left and back a bit. "The washroom." To the left. "My room." She pushes open the door and switches on the overhead light and Gladys glances around before sitting at the foot of the bed. Betty sits down next to her and Gladys leans into her side.

Betty wraps her arm around Gladys's waist, touching their heads together. "I've missed you."

Softly, Gladys replies, "I missed you too. It was—lonely over there." She brings her hand to her mouth, bites down on her thumbnail, then says, "But you had Kate, of course."

"Ah," Betty says, and stares at the floor.

"No?" Gladys asks, cautious.

Eyes cast down, Betty says, "I work days, she works nights. I mean… it wasn't exactly what I imagined. Thinking about sharing a house. But—I'm so happy for her. Really."

Gladys leans further into Betty's side, then frees her arm to wrap it around Betty's waist. "I'm sorry, Betts. It sounds like you've been lonely too."

"You have no idea," Betty says, her throat constricting. She makes an effort to inject an upbeat tone as she adds, "I've been spending time with Lorna. She's helping me make a home."

"How is Lorna?" Gladys asks, truly concerned.

"Still unemployed. She's doing the best she can—Mr. Corbett is not sturdy on his own two feet yet. She's taking in sewing. I'm glad, really, that I've been able to spend some quality time with her."

"That's wonderful," Gladys says quietly, squeezing Betty's waist.

The buzzer goes off then, and they troop back to the kitchen. Betty retrieves the roast and puts a platter of vegetables in to bake. Turning back, she sees that Gladys has located the plates and begun to set the table. Betty reaches up to take down the wine glasses, getting the wine bottle out of the refrigerator and setting it on the table. Once the cutlery is set, Betty carves the roast and serves up dinner.

They eat mostly in silence, though Gladys is sure to praise the food as effusively as she can. Once the meal is cleared away, Betty pours another glass of wine.

"Has Kate been working your days off as well?"

Betty smiles, though it isn't a happy one. "Garden parties. Brunches. She's moving up in the world."

"I'm so happy for her," Gladys says bleakly. "Four months I've been gone. I didn't know I would be leaving you to this, Betts. I never imagined."

"No," Betty says. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She wants to tell Gladys that she couldn't have known, but deep down inside she never wanted Gladys to leave at all. It's a dichotomy she's unable to reconcile.

As they drain their glasses, Betty says, "Well, are you exhausted from your travels?"

Barely managing to suppress a yawn, Gladys simply smiles in return.

"I don't mind going to bed; I do have work in the morning after all."

They take turns in the washroom, changing into their bedclothes and then climbing into Betty's bed. They have sides by now, as close to a married couple as it comes. As usual, they meet in the middle, and finally Betty feels like she can ask.

"Was it bad?"

Gladys smiles, or winces, and her eyes lock on Betty's jaw line. "I don't… know why I got my hopes so high. It's war. It isn't a game." She sighs and her eyes drop further and Betty reaches out to wrap her hand around one of Gladys's. Turning them both, Gladys presses the hands to her heart.

"Yes," she breathes. "It was bad. First the isolation. The not-belonging. An infatuation that turned to bare tolerance. Being the only soul within hundreds of kilometres that didn't speak French." She takes a sharp breath and raises her eyes to Betty's. "Pretend you didn't hear that."

Betty nods quickly, wanting the rest of the story.

"Then the… I don't know how to describe it. Being someone else. Lying every minute of every day. And knowing that if you slip up, just once, you could be dead. You could be the reason someone else dies. I'm just… just a silly Canadian rich girl. What was I thinking? What were _they_ thinking?" She uses her free hand to swipe at her lower lashes, dashing away the first tears that squeeze out.

Betty reaches out and wraps her arm around Gladys's back, pulling her close and pressing Gladys's face into her body as she sobs.

"I feel so stupid. How could I be so stupid?"

Finally, Betty speaks, her voice like gravel from the tears and pain she's holding back. "You aren't stupid. You just aren't the soldier you thought you were. I don't know anyone who is."

Clutching at Betty's shoulders, Gladys lets go and sobs with her whole body. She shakes and heaves until she's worn herself out and then she sinks heavy into the bed. Sleep grabs her almost immediately and Betty strokes her hair as she feels Gladys's breathing even out and her muscles go limp at last.

All Betty can do is bury her face in Gladys's hair and hope that tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be one more day forward.

It's dark when Betty wakes, but she feels the flutter of Gladys's eyelashes on her cheek and the burst of warm breath on her lips. She hums a question and glimpses a flash of light on Gladys's eyes, then her lids close and their noses brush.

She doesn't expect for Gladys's lips to land on hers, and in her surprise she freezes. Gladys immediately retreats and murmurs, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Betty says, tipping her chin forward and pressing their lips together again. She laps tentatively at Gladys's lips and when her mouth opens, Betty shifts her whole body forward, falling into the kiss. Ten seconds later she won't be sure whether she was waking or dreaming, but in this moment it is warm and real and fills Betty's heart to bursting.

In the morning Betty slips out of bed as smoothly as possible, smiling as Gladys grumbles and turns in her sleep. She plants a gentle kiss on Gladys's forehead as her face relaxes back into sleep, and shuts the door quietly behind her. Right away she sees Kate's closed door and thinks, _Rats_. Kate has no idea they have a houseguest, and if she does it's by suitcases and dishes and not words.

At the kitchen table, Betty slides a pad of paper and a pen toward herself and taps the pen on her lip as she thinks.

_Kate,_

_Gladys is home! She'll be staying a_  
few days. I imagine you'll run into  
one another during the day. I'll be  
home after 8, as always.

_B._

She slips the sheet under Kate's door as she leaves for work. All day on the line Betty casts back over that moment in the middle of the night, asking herself over and over if it was real. She couldn't be that lucky… could she?

When she returns home, laughter and light are spilling out of the kitchen and she walks straight in, the beginnings of a smile on her face. Gladys turns to the door in mid-laugh and when she sees Betty she beams and takes half a step forward before remembering Kate and stumbling to a halt. She blushes and looks down, stirring aimlessly at the bowl in front of her, and Betty thinks, _It happened. It happened it happened._ She uses all her powers to strangle the grin fighting at her lips and looks to Kate, who hasn't seen a thing.

"Evening, girls."

"Betty!" Kate laughs. "We're making cookies."

Glancing from the bowls strewn messily around the tabletop to the flour on the floor and the white smudge on Gladys's cheek, Betty laughs too. "I can see that." She steps in and reaches up to Gladys's cheek, wiping the flour away with her thumb. Gladys turns her face, into Betty's hand and away from Kate, and Betty tucks her lips in between her teeth, trying to keep up this façade. "I'll, um, pans," she says, walking around behind Gladys to the cupboard. With her back to the room she takes a moment to thrill, another moment to compose herself, and turns back with two baking sheets in her hands.

They sit around the table drinking wine as the house fills with the scent of cookies baking, and then eat way too many cookies with more wine.

"You'll have to take these away," Betty says, waving half a cookie in her hand.

"I was thinking about that," Kate says, looking to Gladys. "Would you like to visit Lorna tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes," Gladys says, spraying crumbs. "She won't take our cookies though."

"Maybe drop in at the factory after?"

Looking to Betty, Gladys says hesitantly, "Sure."

"Have you seen Carol?" Betty murmurs. Gladys presses her lips together and shakes her head, and Betty reaches across to pick up her hand and squeeze it quickly before letting go. "Well, I'm ready for bed."

Gladys nods and picks up her plate and Kate takes it from her.

"You girls go on ahead. I'll clean up here."

After making sure that's really okay, Betty and Gladys go back to Betty's room. Betty walks over to her dresser and Gladys comes up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder.

"Can she hear us?" she says into Betty's ear and Betty shivers, saying softly back, "I can assure you with absolute certainty that she can hear anything and everything above a whisper."

"Small house," Gladys mutters, and presses her lips to Betty's neck.

Betty whimpers and turns in her arms, cupping Gladys's face in her hands and kissing her full on the mouth. She loses herself in the moment, but only for a moment, and then Gladys is tugging at the waist of her blouse and Betty turns her face to the side, saying, "Gladys… _Gladys_."

Gladys stops. "What?"

Settling her hands at Gladys's waist, Betty shifts her back a step and tips her head down, squinting at her. "Isn't this a little… sudden?"

Gladys stares back and Betty sees the muscle in her jaw tick.

"I mean, you mentioned infatuation."

"Betty!" Gladys shakes her head. "You know that's not—"

"I _know_ , but isn't it similar?"

Turning, Gladys goes to sit at the end of the bed and shakes her head again. "It's not even close," and Betty hears tears in her voice and goes to sit beside her, taking her hand into her lap and holding it between both of hers.

"I know it's not, I know. I'm not saying this right." She hangs her head and huffs out a breath. "God, I'm terrible at this. All I'm trying to say is that you might need more time to process. Maybe wait a little bit before jumping in feet first."

Tears drip onto Gladys's free hand in her lap and she reaches up to smear at them. "Betty, I love you," she says tearfully.

"I know you do," Betty says soothingly. "I love you too. And that's why I won't be going anywhere. I'll be right here by your side. But do you think that maybe you should wait a little?"

"I wouldn't say _should_ ," Gladys says stubbornly, and Betty smiles.

"Well, will you?"

"I'll give it a shot." She sniffs faux-casually and tosses her head, but she's covered in tears and snot so it doesn't really come off as Princess-y as she'd like it too. They giggle wetly and Betty wraps her arm around Gladys's back.

As they get ready for bed, Gladys sits on the edge with her back to Betty and says, "I suppose I can't just stay here."

Betty inhales and exhales, slowly. What a dream.

Gladys laughs and hangs her head. "I know. I know! Not a good idea."

On her hands and knees Betty crosses the bed and runs up against Gladys's back, wrapping her arms around Gladys's waist. "Actually, that sounds like the best idea I've ever heard." Gladys turns her head, a smile ticking up the corner of her mouth, and Betty tucks her face against the curve of her neck. "But," she says into Gladys's hair, "still probably not wise."

Gladys squeezes one of Betty's hands in tacit agreement, and Betty clambers back over to her side of the bed. She flicks off the lamp and lies down on her side, waiting for Gladys's presence behind her before sinking into the bed. Finding Gladys's hand on her waist, she links their fingers together and sighs.

"Goodnight, Princess."

"'Night, Betts."

For the first time in months, Betty thinks the future doesn't look half-bad.


End file.
